Hair
by pseudonymical
Summary: William fixates on Grell's hair for a day-warning for extreme sickening fluff. *eye roll*


AN: Hideously, hideously fluffy Grelliam. XD For Gothic-Romantic99 again. It almost sickened me to write this and I feel like it's a terrible failure. BUT HEY clearly I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about because people actually favorite my stuff... even the stuff that I hate... and someone even voicerecorded one of the ones I think I hated most. But if you like them, *shrug* I'm happy... :3 I got a fictionpress, by the way. I'm pseudonymical there too, but I haven't uploaded anything just yet. XD Read and review!

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><p>It doesn't matter how many times he sees it, it seems as though every time William catches a glimpse of Grell's hair in his peripheral vision, he does a double-take. It's nice hair, really. He likes it. But it's hard to quell the initial reaction of "holy mother of god who's bleeding". The color is so, so, so bright, so similar to the shade of fresh blood, that William has, occasionally, silently freaked out before remembering that it's just hair. He suspects dye, but Grell has always denied it "fervently", which, for the sharp-toothed, feminine Reaper, equates to "attempted to murder people who question". So, he's never asked, but he's never seen any evidence of hair dye, either, and it <em>has<em> been the same color for as long as he's known the other man. No hair dye would be in production that long, would it?

"Will!" The blur of red in his sight snaps his head up out of his paperwork to look at his lover. Grell exposes needle-sharp teeth in his approximation of a "normal" smile. "You're cute when I catch you off guard." As William flushes, the redhead continues into the reason he's appeared in his supervisor's office. "Darling, I simply must have my scythe back, it's been, god, a week or something, since you took it, and it's almost _painful_ for me to stand by and hope Ronald manages to not get us both killed when you send me out with him, you know he's not _really_ full-trained yet and it's so boring to watch and not be able to participate, and I've been on _very_ good behavior all week," Grell pauses in his tirade for a second to catch his breath, then goes on, "so can I please have it back?"

William sighs heavily. "It's been two days, Sutcliff. No. You can not have your scythe back." Grell frowned at his supervisor.

"But, Will! I need it!" He whines, widening his eyes. He flips his hair over one shoulder, then, seemingly indecisive, sweeps it back. William's eye is irresistibly drawn to the colorful motion. That hair is just so fascinating. "I-"

"Grell?" William says, cutting him off. It's odd for his supervisor to address him by his first name at work, and Grell is momentarily taken aback, as well as by the almost-childlike querical tone. That, combined with the fact that William is actually waiting for his permission to ask a question is enough to shut the redhead up.

"Y-yes?" He says uncertainly. William is staring in a quite disconcerting way.

"Come here." There's a mild command in his tone, but it's still not normal. It's almost absent, distracted, as though William is focusing on something very close to him, or something behind him, rather than his actual person. Dumbstruck for once, Grell obeys, stepping towards the desk. He wonders idly if he should have closed the door on his way in. When he's standing next to William, a thin, pale hand stretches out towards him. He almost twitches back. The middle finger and thumb come together on a strand of neon hair, twisting it around the digits and bringing it gently closer to William's face. Grell barely feels the soft pull that has him leaning closer. It's silent in William's office, although they can hear, as though from a distance, the voices of the others in the room beyond. The taller man studies the lock of hair he holds, quietly contemplating its color and texture. Grell forgets to breathe, contributing to the eerie lack of noise in the room. William isn't breathing either, but that's normal for him. It's unnecessary, so he does away with it unless he's speaking.

Grell feels as though William's just annihilated every other person on earth-not something your average person would find romantic, but Grell's never been exactly average. It amounts to anyone else's lover making them feel special... as though they're the only one. William cocks his head slightly to the side, like a dog, and continues to examine the hair. With his free hand, he pushes his glasses to a perch on his forehead and leans in closer.

"You look so different without your glasses." Grell comments awkwardly, trying to break the silence, which is beginning to make him uncomfortable. William makes a sound that could be construed as most anything and doesn't break his gaze. When he stands up, the movement takes the redhead by surprise-but William merely moves to stand behind his partner, hands still entangled in his hair.

Grell stares straight ahead, trying to rationalize the events of the last five minutes. He's seen William look at his hair before-there are few people who don't-but never this intently. It borders on the uncomfortable, but it's also...

Well, he's not sure of the word exactly. But it's not a bad thing.

He feels a light pressure on the back of his head-not a pulling, a push, and he realizes with a start that William has pressed a light kiss to his hair.

"Will?" He says quietly. His lover doesn't respond, but his face is still buried in Grell's hair, his hands on the shoulders of the other. After what seems like an eon, he steps back and turns Grell to face him.

"You have beautiful hair." He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is back to normal, as well as his manner. "Now, go finish your work, you may not have your scythe back." He stares at Grell, whose eyes narrow in disbelief. How much more anti-climactic could he possibly have gotten? After a brief second of more silence during which Grell contemplates how best to respond, he merely stands quickly on his toes and bumps their lips together. Leaving William looking ever-so-slightly shocked, he waltzes out of the office.

William sighs and sits back down, returning to his work. As much as it sometimes manages to sneak up to his periphery and shock him, Grell really does have very nice hair. He's not sure quite what he does to it-he's never really looked at the multitude of colorful bottles in the bathroom at the other Reaper's flat. But it's quite pretty. Snapping himself out of his reverie, he colors slightly and bends back over his work. Best not to get too distracted.

He comes home late, after a long stint of overtime-covering one of Alan's shifts, the poor man is getting worse, and Eric's no help when it comes to picking up the slack. Doesn't bother eating, he's too tired. _Grell_ tires him doubly, on top of his work-related stress, but he wouldn't give up being around him for much of anything. Before he falls asleep, he manages to review his day, as usual. He realizes he acted very oddly in the office, and will probably need to apologize to Grell or something-the other man is so, so temperamental sometimes. William hasn't seen him since that brief pause in the midst of the day, that silent interlude...

The next morning, he notices a long, red, perfect hair curled on the pillow next to his.

Grell would have loved to see his smile then.


End file.
